


A woman, not a lassie

by CrosswordDreamer



Category: Outlander & Related Fandoms, Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: Claire's PoV, Daydreaming, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Sexual Fantasy, Smut, Smut Fest February, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-14 01:35:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29785197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrosswordDreamer/pseuds/CrosswordDreamer
Summary: prompt: "S1 Claire daydreams about what it would be like to be with Jamie after seeing him and Laoghaire in the foyer."
Relationships: Claire Beauchamp/Jamie Fraser
Comments: 29
Kudos: 126





	A woman, not a lassie

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CourageousJS](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CourageousJS/gifts).



> this work is a prompt by CourageousJS, part of her Smut Fest February challenge.  
> (gif by @sassenach4life on tumblr)  
> as always, not betad, english is not my first language, written in the middle of the night, in the middle of the week; all mistakes are my own.  
> as the title suggest, this is supposed to be smutty, and i was happy to go all in for this one.  
> let me know how it reads on your smut-o-meter ❤

Finally in bed after what had felt like the longest day, I was a mess. I needed to get some rest, I would be waking up first thing in the morning to accompany Dougal. He would be taking me to visit Geillis, to restock my shelves for the Gathering. I was upset for having let him see me in a vulnerable state. He'd caught me unawares while I stepped outside for an evening walk, to clear my head. I'd been overcome with emotion and, thinking I was alone, succumbed to crying. I desperately needed to vent, and I was never alone, by myself, always with one of Dougal's men in the shadows following my every move. This time the man must have taken it upon himself to spy on me.

But this time I didn't care who saw me, I was simply overwhelmed. I missed my husband. I missed our intimacy. We'd just gotten reacquainted after 5 years at war, only to be separated again. It wasn't fair.

I sighed. No longer emotional as much as frustrated, perhaps. Yes, that was what I was feeling at the moment. Utterly frustrated. I'd spent all those years during the war celibate, honoring the vows I'd taken on my wedding day. Not that there hadn't been plenty of opportunities to stray. I was now wondering whether I'd been a fool to hold on to them, Frank definitely seemed to be of a different opinion. To my surprise, he'd told me that plenty of people sought intimacy during the war, to better cope with the horrors of it. Told me it wouldn't have mattered to him had I strayed, that it would have only been something physical and understandable. I was of a different opinion, of course. But the fact that he'd told me this did make me wonder. What exactly had he been trying to tell me?

Had he cheated?

I sighed. Guess I'll never know now. That thought brought back fresh tears to my eyes. God, will I never see my husband again? Will I be forced to stay here indefinitely? Everytime I thought I found a way to escape I was cornered right back to square one.

And what does that mean? Would I have to make a new life here? Had I dug my own grave letting people think I'd been widowed? Well, not people. Jamie. He'd asked me if my husband was not alive, and what could I have told him? Indeed, he is not alive. Not yet, at least. And not here.

Jamie.

God, that man... he made everything ten times worse for some reason. It was alright keeping my need for intimacy in check while in the company of Rupert, Angus and most of the merry lot I'd met at Leoch. Men were not in the least appealing. Zero concern for hygiene, total lack of manners and chivalry, men were, simply put, quite barbaric. They dressed just for the sake of not strutting around naked, drank themselves under the table, ate like it was perpetually their last meal, were always ready to jump to fight for whatever reason much like wild animals claiming their territory (would not be surprised if they'd have pissing contests at this point) and definitely didn't shy away from engaging in inappropriate conversations even in the presence of women. Men in this day and age seemed to be driven solely by their baser needs. Not that women were exceptionally different, from what I'd seen so far, but they were, after all, treated like property and I didn't really have much hope that any one of them would even dream of doing things differently from what they were being told.

But Jamie.... there was just something about him, something I couldn't quite put my finger on. He stood out like a sore thumb amongst those savages. Of course, I knew by now that he was related to Dougal and Colum and had probably had a more refined upbringing. He was articulate, even chivalrous and carried himself with poise, something that was sorely lacking in all the others. Dougal and Colum were similar in those aspects, I suppose, so what was so different about him, then?

I was not naive enough to pretend that I hadn't noticed exactly what it was that had caught my eye about him. Sure, all those qualities were great, especially by comparison, but the man was an Adonis. After having seen him sans his shirt on I couldn't erase the image out of my mind. Men in my time simply weren't built like that, not anymore. Not even those that were heavily trained in combat during the war. He was 6 foot 4 by my estimation, and he was not only tall but massive, towering over most of the people he'd ever stand next to. He looked exactly like what one would imagine Vikings must have looked like.

Compared to Frank, Jamie was a giant. But he had a way of carrying himself that was almost graceful. For such a big man he definitely had a way about him that made him look poised without looking ridiculous. Had I seen those red locks on anybody else I would have found it endearingly amusing. But on him it was the exact dose of... feminine beauty almost. I'd kill for those curls. Mine where a hot, humid mess most of the time even back in my own time with products that helped tame the frizz, all sorts of brushes and what not. I was willing to bet Jamie didn't even comb his. Yet they sat perfectly around his face softening his features, making him look like maybe there was something human about him after all.

The slanted cat-like eyes were chameleonic. I'd never seen eyes that could hold humor like that and change in an instant to icy cold daggers. If looks could kill, he'd certainly posses that power. He sometimes looked at me with the most mysterious gaze that I simply could not decipher. I haven't seen him look like that at anyone else yet, in order to put it in context and maybe make out what it meant. Which leads me to another interesting quality, his poker face. There was absolutely no way of telling what this man was thinking. His face was unreadable. Must be a great quality to posses, I myself have a terrible glass face. Couldn't hide my true feelings if my life depended on it, so I've been told.

The nose was definitely another Viking feature along with his height and eyes and overall bone structure. The shape of it was something that even Michelangelo would have obsessed over. It was... perfect. I didn't even know I had a thing for noses before I met him. It was perfectly proportioned, all the while inspiring... virility? Was that a thing? Can noses inspire virility?

If its shape along with his fingers and huge feet were any indicator... I'd say this man oozed virility. The cheekbones, the full bottom lip, those perfect teeth. The cavewoman in me screamed in ecstasy. This was a fine specimen if I ever saw one and all my instincts were going into overdrive.

He looked as though one long enough gaze coming from him could impregnate me.

Had I been musing about Mr. McTavish since I'd gotten here? Maybe. On some days more than others. I'd never seen him in a romantic context though, not until today, that is. And it.... detonated an avalanche of feelings, feelings I had no idea what to do with. Sure, he was attractive, of that much I'd been aware since I'd met him. Any woman with functioning eyes could see that. I'd seen good looking men before, maybe none that had made such an impression, and maybe most of them had been cinema stars, but still, I'd seen my fair share of handsome men.

Speculating about his virility was one thing, seeing it in action was another thing entirely, though.

When I turned my head today, waiting for Angus, I'd inadvertently come face to face with something I had not expected to see, at least not in an alcove at noon, with busybodies all around the castle. The very manner in which this occurrence was taking place was intriguing to begin with. Here was Jamie kissing Laoghaire (out of all people, but that is a different matter altogether) as if this was the most natural thing to do in such a setting.

Furthermore, he appeared to be kissing her with his eyes open, and when he caught a glimpse of me standing there staring at them, he held my gaze for a good few seconds, a definite glint of something akin to devilish pride in his eyes. Almost as if the fact that I was watching spurred him on. He then seemed to redouble his attentions, deepening the kiss.

The sight had been so disturbingly erotic that I simply had no idea what to do with myself. I simply sat there, stupefied, ogling them shamelessly. I eventually managed to pry my eyes away and give them privacy, only to turn my head right back in their direction but alas, Laoghaire was pulling him further back into the alcove, away from prying eyes such as mine.

He was definitely enjoying himself, he'd seemed well composed, even amused by her desperate display of affection. It made me feel as if he was used to lasses throwing themselves at him all the time, and why wouldn't they? Well, apart from the whole "women being men's property" and the fact that they'd most likely be severely admonished for doing so, but kudos to them for taking the risk and living a little, especially if the risk was worth it, which in this case, probably was.

An idea sprang into my mind then, one that of course, had come to me in one way or another by now numerous times. But what if I had been the one to pull Jamie into the alcove, what then? I was nobody's "property", nobody's responsibility. There was nobody to teach me a lesson, I had no virtue to guard, no reputation to ruin. Of all the possible scenarios, I'm the least likely to risk anything, should I kiss Jamie.

In my mind's eye, I imagined pulling him into that alcove, only instead of desperately groping at him like Laoghaire had done, I'd have shown him a good time, something the poor lass had no way of doing. I wasn't patronizing her, not even in my own imagination, it was simply factual that I was more experienced given that I had been married, after all. Was still married-- had to catch myself, there. I was still very much married. But this whole scenario was purely hypothetical, of course.

Would he be surprised? Would he be intrigued by the fact that I knew how to kiss a man enough to make him lose his breath? Quicken his heartrate? Would he like to be, for once, not in a position to show a lass how it's done? And if so, what then? What would he do? Would he take it a step further?

Of course this was highly speculative of me, I had no idea how far things had gone with Laoghaire, but for the sake of the argument I was having with myself, I pretended like I knew that this was no more than a kiss. For all I knew, they could've been sleeping together on the regular, and none the wiser. Surely would have explained why Jamie had taken that beating in the Hall on her account. He'd told me he barely knew her, when I'd patched him up afterwards, but that could have very well been all talk and a means to ensure I didn't read too much into it. Who knew?

Did I even care?

I imagined Jamie kissing me, looking at me from under halfclosed eyelids, his eyes widening with surprise as I kissed him with all I had in me. All my pent up frustration. All my needs that weren't being met. I missed my husband, sure, but beyond the emotional side to it I was not ashamed to admit that I missed being thoroughly fucked. Frank, bless his heart, was a great lover. He always made sure my needs were met, he always kept me satisfied and hungry for more. But my baser needs were being tested, more so than they had been during the time we'd been apart while at war. Had I held myself in high opinion for nothing, all this time? I'd thought that I simply had had the willpower to not let myself get involved with anyone. I'd craved intimacy then too, even just the need to be sexually satiated, but had it simply been a matter of not having come across anyone that had spiked my interest sufficiently? Had I met Jamie during the war, would I have turned a blind eye? Suddenly, I wasn't too sure anymore.

How was this any different, really? Frank and I were apart then, I didn't know whether the two of us would come out of the war alive, didn't know whether we'd ever be together again. The context may have been different, but the principle of it was very much the same. Maybe I would find a way to go back, back to Craig na Dun and back through the stones, or maybe not. I'd kept my vows during the war, what was prompting me now to question their validity?

What was prompting me now to think about how Jamie would react if I were to kiss him?

Would he like the fact that I was experienced, or would it remind him that I was a widow, and therefore not desirable by this day and age's standards?

Would it be a turn off for him that I'd been someone else's before? Or would he welcome the novelty of kissing someone that actually knows how to please a man? And if so, what would then stop me to say... grind my pelvis against his, finally coming into contact with what I was sure must be a cockstand to match its owner?

He'd surely gasp then, catching him unawares. Surely he was not used to have lasses do anything too bold, most likely they were like putty in his hands for him to mold how he saw fit. But what if I were to take matters into my own hands? Oh, I could only imagine the glint in his eyes then. He'd kiss me all the more ardently then, and I'd snake my hand under his kilt to find just Jamie, ready and throbbing, and God help me, I could almost feel him pulsate in my hand.

For lack of props to demonstrate, I decided there was one way to blow off some steam, and if touching myself while imagining I was in fact doing so to Jamie was all I could do, then so be it. I eased my hand under the quilts and began stroking myself languidly, I was in no hurry, I had plenty of time and no chance of falling asleep in this state.

I resumed my course of events that I was so vividly imagining, and I gasped at how wet the idea of having him bare in my hands got me. Of course, he was magnificent, hard as steel and velvety soft, and he'd probably pin me against the wall by now, overcome with desire and desperate to find out just how far I was willing to take this. He'd grow bolder now, letting his hands roam to my bottom which I have in fact caught him once staring at, or maybe that was what I liked to believe and in fact he was staring into space for all I knew. His expression had, as always, been unreadable. But in my imagination he was crazy with desire to feel it and groped me using his large hands, kneading and spreading my cheeks apart, making me roll my eyes back in my head. He'd kiss me again then, thrusting his tongue deeper into my mouth, gasping for air as I stroked him more vigorously. He'd then pull at my bodice, freeing my breasts just enough for him to play with a nipple. I dragged my own hand over my chest, trying to mimic his touch. I was sure I was falling painfully short compared to what it would actually feel like to have his huge, calloused hands over my sensitive skin. I imagined him dragging his finger around my areola, circling it until it was aching with need and then finally bending to catch my nipple with his big wet mouth. I could almost feel his breath falling over my sensitive flesh, lathered in his wet kisses as he dragged the scruff of his chin over and around my breasts. At this point I would probably not be able to keep my hand movement rhythmic enough and would need to up my game.

I've always enjoyed going down on Frank and have mastered the fine art of it, if what he'd told me was to be believed, and I was curious to find out how doing it for Jamie would be any different. Going down on my knees, he'd no doubt be taken aback, but I'd not give him time to react, making sure to keep on surprising him just for the sake of seeing that poker face crumbling even if for a few moments worth. If the size of his feet, fingers, nose and his general height combined really were an indicator for it, it would be safe to assume that Jamie would be a great deal bigger, not to mention thicker than Frank. I would have to adjust to his size and concentrate on breathing but I was confident I would be able to pleasure him, making sure to pay attention to what he liked. Maybe he'd love me to focus more on the tip, or want me to take as much of him in as I could, or maybe he'd love me to tease him and not actually let me get him over the edge at all. Maybe he'd want to finish this differently.

Maybe, he'd pull me up to my feat and kiss me like I'd never been kissed before, making my knees buckle, and pinning me against the wall once again. Maybe this time after seeing that I mean business he'd not have a playful glint in his eyes at all, but an animalistic quality to them to let me know that playtime was over, and he was in charge. He was an alpha male if I'd ever seen one, and as much as he'd love for me to tease and push his buttons he'd no doubt want to posses me, take me as if I belonged to him, showing me who mastered who amongst the two of us. He'd make quick work of my gown and all its layers, pushing them out of the way and in one swift motion grab me as if I weighted nothing and spread my legs forcing my ankles to lock against his lower back. I'd help push his kilt aside, the final barrier between us as he'd suck on my nipples making me almost teary eyed in anticipation.

By this point I'd be dripping wet, and I was, I was ready to have him fill me up, my walls clenching in desperate need. I imagined him finally impaling me in one hard thrust just in time with my own fingers pushing inside me and I almost wanted to laugh at the discrepancy. Who was I kidding, this was nothing compared to the reality of Jamie's cock fucking into me, again and again and again. So hard, so rough that he'd hurt me, repeatedly pushing me against the wall, but I'd welcome the pain, the sweet pain of being thoroughly possessed.

I'd focus on his face, on his strong stoic face and how his eyebrows would furrow in concentration, sweat dripping from those curls, his jaw clenching, his veins swelling, his breathing labored.

I'd feel myself tense up much more rapidly than usual, my walls clenching all around him, wanting to take him with me, but he'd show no signs of even considering going there without throwing me over the edge first. I'd be loud and wanton, and he'd love it, his eyes dark, his pupils dilating making them appear almost black with desire. He'd alternate from looking at my breasts bounce in his face to looking between us to where he was plunging into me incessantly, all the while digging his fingers into the flesh of my arse, making sure to leave me bruised and sore all over, making sure I felt him long after dismounting him.

Not being able to prolong the inevitable I'd shatter all around him in a jumble on incoherent moans, going limp in his arms. He'd slow down for a little while, kissing me, stoking the fire once more and then slowly but steadily finding his rhythm inside me once more, surprising me, taking his time to let pleasure creep back at the base of my spine again. Panting heavily, I began moving my fingers once more, deciding to climb the short ladder up towards my second orgasm that was guaranteed to be even more powerful than the first, and just as Jamie would finally begin showing the faintest sign of exertion, not for lack of stamina but anticipation and desire to find his own completion, I would feel something snap and just as I'd literally see stars behind my closed eyelids, keeping me eyes closed for fear that I could actually cry from the intensity, I'd also feel him shoot strong and steady inside me, along with his whole body shuddering against me. His deep growl would compete with my own release in terms of satisfaction and I'd feel as if I'd earned something incredibly precious to see him shatter in my arms, even if just momentarily. The way he'd look at me would be something I'd never be able to put into words, and I realized the risk would be entirely worth it just to see that look upon his face, just to see him look at me like that and actually, truly, see him.


End file.
